Outsider In

I've never been one of the 'cool kids.'

There have been times in my life where I lived on the cool periphery. Close enough to touch the frost, but also free enough to play at a distance.

And I did consider it a sort of a freedom - a chance to be me, the ability to shape my own way.

I'm an introvert by nature, so being outside looking in has often felt like the best viewing grounds.

But there are other times, when it cuts to the quick.

There was a stage at the end of my marriage where I felt so 'outside' in my own life and marriage, that I would wake at 6 am on the weekends just to be able to enjoy a cup of coffee in my own living room without feeling like I need to be different, play different, say different,... and not FEEL different. Not feel like an outsider looking in.

This week I have visiting with me some friends. Acquaintances is maybe a better word - our paths have crossed in many ways and have a lot in common but they are not the people who would know how to reach me if I happened to not log into Facebook.

Lovely people - so full of energy and fun, and laughs.

And yet, there's the distinct feeling of being the outsider looking in - even in my own home. It tastes dull and acidly.

I don't know the closed-club jokes. I don't do drink my coffee the same way. I don't recognize the names of the glitterati that they toss around casually.  I yearn for an hour with my book. I walk the dog more often than I need.

But I am hostess, it's my house. I'm the insider on the outs.

Stealing a moment of quiet calm.